A couple of you wingnuts have been floating an idea lately that, mirabile dictu, actually makes a lot of sense. No, I’m not talking about running Michele “The Battle of Lexington and Concord, N.H.” Bachmann for president; that member of the House Intelligence Committee has enough on her plate right now, including elementary history and geography, without having to worry about the other 56 states.

Rather, I’m talking about the movement afoot to make our beloved bonze, Barry, a.k.a. His Serene Majesty the Emperor Barack Hussein Obama II, Lord of the Flies, Keeper of the Hoops, Master of the Greens, and Protector of the Holy Cities of Honolulu and Chicago, into a, you know, honest-to-Gaia emperor. I mean, here we’ve been talking about finding common ground since the election of 2008, and now we just may have stumbled upon the solution to our contentious national dialogue.

You perhaps may have noticed that the former Mr. Barry Soetoro already has lots of different names and titles, so why not make it official and add the one toward which he has striven all his charmed, magical life? You’d think that Barry, Barry Obama, Barry Soetoro, the Punahou Kid, Barack Obama Jr., Barack Hussein Obama, Barack Hussein Obama II, State Senator Barack Obama, Senator Barack Hussein Obama, President Barack Hussein Obama, Nobel Peace Prize winner Barack Hussein Obama, and the First Black President would be enough for anybody, but the one thing we men of the Left love about Mr. Multiple Handles is his unceasing, restless, relentless quest for his next résumé topper.

After POTUS, of course, there’s really nowhere else to go, unless you count Ban Ki-moon’s job over at the U.N., and I have it on good authority that the other First Black President, Billy Jeff Blythe III, has dibs on that one. Since Billy III’s one up on Hussein II in the Roman-numeral department, it’s probably his for the asking. And the Chinese gig is already taken.

My first thought was that we should offer Barry the vacant throne of his native Hawaiian Islands. Sure, he’d have to put on three or four hundred pounds to fit the royal robes of King Kamehameha, but even Barry might blanch at the thought of adding King Kam’s full moniker to his roster of names: Kalani Pai’ea Wohi o Kaleikini Keali’ikui Kamehameha o ’Iolani i Kaiwikapu kaui Ka Liholiho Kūnuiākea, the Second. Still, Michelle would have a real shot of slipping into Queen Kapiolani’s muumuu collection and making it her own, especially after a few more meals of short ribs in Vail, the calorie count of which is only slightly offset by her incessant finger-wagging at the rest of us.

I’ve never read that Barry can cook, so Top Chef is probably out. Since he’s never shown the slightest inclination for hard work, president of Paramount Pictures is equally unlikely, or of any of the other Hollywood studios, where you actually have to do the job and show results or get fired. And if there’s one thing, among many, that Barry has never done, it’s get fired. Like all good confidence men, his strategy has always been to seek the next higher office before the voters decide his services are no longer required.

Speaking of Hollywood, “Tammany” Chris Dodd (D., Countrywide) managed to retire unindicted and has just scooped up the chairmanship of the Motion Picture Association of America, so there goes a perfectly good layabout lobbying gig. Maybe Obama could appoint Dodd ambassador to Ireland, so Mr. Ethics can spend more time at his house in Galway, but that would require Obama’s looking down the road to electoral defeat in 2012, and we don’t want to go there just yet.

Still, there’s got to be a pot of gold at the end of this rainbow coalition somewhere, and that’s what I’m here to propose.

Rather than go through all the muss and fuss and time and expense of a presidential election next year, let’s call the whole thing off. Think about it: With Wisconsin as our new template, what is the point of your trying to defeat Barry fair and square at the ballot box when you know in advance that, if it goes against us, we’re going to refuse to accept the results of your so-called “election,” and instead will appeal to the higher democratic nature of our society and call out every union thug and goon in these United States to occupy the Capitol, shred the drapery, steal the silver, and molest the servants? If you thought the sit-ins and tractor pulls in Madison were uplifting and awe-inspiring, wait till you see what we’ve got in store for you on Wednesday, Nov. 7, 2012. I tell you, it will make the Whiskey Rebellion and the Bonus Army’s march on Washington look like NPR pledge drives.

And that’s why what we might call the Imperial Compromise is such a good deal for your side. It eliminates widespread bloodshed and destruction of property, at least for a while, kicks Barry upstairs, and lets us install a bona fide idiot as a figurehead president while Bill Ayers and George Soros really run the show. Biden won’t mind, the peace will be kept, and fundamental transformation will get four more years without anybody having to get hurt. What’s not to like?

It’s a deal you ought to take. None of your clowns is likely to beat Hussein, so by taking the 2012 election off the table, you’ll have plenty of time to groom someone who can actually win. Not the retreads of Gingrich, Romney, Palin et al., but the fresh new faces of Chris Christie, Marco Rubio, and Col. Allen West — who, when you stop to think about it, actually would be the First Black President. Luckily for us, they don’t dare shoot for the nomination of the It’s His Turn Now party next year, and there’s no point ruining a perfectly good crop of candidates just to, you know, “take your country back” (ha ha).

Now, what exactly would the Emperor Hussein do under this minor modification of the American electoral system? This is the genius of my idea: exactly what he’s doing today, which is basically voting present and letting his below-the-radar henchmen run the show. Health-care reform? Leave it to the speaker of the House, Maerose Prizzi! Clean up prostitution in Nevada? Get Horseless Harry on the case! That other boring, governing stuff — well, that’s what extra-constitutional czars are for. Badges? We don’t need no stinkin’ badges!

So all hail O! As emperor, his duties will continue to include golf, basketball, and trips to his royal residences in Honolulu and Chicago. He’ll have unlimited use of Air Force One to jet him around the globe at his slightest whim, while the Empress Michelle will have hundreds of fashion designers at her beck and call, except for, of course, John Galliano, who’s temporarily hors de combat until his attitude readjustment is complete. Naturally, he’ll be stripped of any actual decision making, but we can live with that because he doesn’t do that anyway.

What do you say, Amerikkka? Shall we make it official and just get this over with already? Or are you really going to run Mr. Newt or Mitt against His Majesty?

— David Kahane is proud to say that he remains resolutely bipartisan in his voting habits, casting his ballots for radical Communists and garden-variety Democrats alike. If you can keep a civil tongue in your heads, he’d be pleased to hear from you about the Imperial Compromise. As long as you have a cash receipt from purchasing Rules for Radical Conservatives, you can write to him at [email protected] or fake being his friend on Facebook.